


Destiny (damned me to love you)

by heliocentrics



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Happy Ending, just a lil porny, multiple AUs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 01:27:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14485785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heliocentrics/pseuds/heliocentrics
Summary: "Do you ever feel like the Force brought us together?""Was it the Force?"[written for Reylo Week day 7 prompt- destiny]





	Destiny (damned me to love you)

**Author's Note:**

> [Music rec](https://youtu.be/0Rc67AWfT9g) to listen to while reading. This was written as a part of Reylo Week on Tumblr, filling the "destiny" prompt for Sunday!

“Do you ever feel like the Force brought us together?”

* * *

There— she sees him now, across the clearing, clad entirely in black. It’s just the two of them— she responded to his call, across the bond, to boil this war between Resistance and First Order down to just the two of them.

His lightsaber is already ignited, a bright red cross illuminating his silhouette, but he doesn’t hold it aloft, as she expected; the hilt is limp in his hand, the weapon forgotten at his side.

“I don’t want to fight you.” She thinks his voice cracks; maybe it’s the distance between them, distorting his tone.

She knows hers does when she speaks, though. “We have to, don’t we?” Her grip tightens on the hilt of her saberstaff, thumb resting on the emitter. She knows she’s crying now. “To end the war. To end all this death, this suffering. One of us can’t leave this planet alive.”

“If I die, if you die— it upsets the balance. Powerful light, powerful darkness.” She can’t tell if he’s gambling for his own life, or for hers. “We’ll throw the galaxy into disarray.”

“The galaxy _is_ in disarray.” She clears her throat, tries to compose herself. “We’re at war. I don’t want anyone else to die.”

“Anyone except me?” She sees him become conscious of the weight of the saber in his hand, and gestures it at her. “Balance is messy, Rey. It’s not peace— it’s _tension_. I know you can feel it, if you reach out.”

She shakes her head, breaking eye contact long enough to look down, glancing at her hands. “I don’t want tension. I don’t want a mess. I want _peace_ , Ben.”

His mouth tightens, lips pressing against each other. She can see him swallow, his hands trembling as his grip tightens on his saber. “So be it.”

* * *

His words are soft, little more than a whisper, against her forehead, as his fingers comb through her hair. She rests her cheek on his bare shoulder, fingers resting lightly across his chest.

“Was it the Force?” She says, just as softly.

* * *

She paces methodically through a group of seated younglings, all cross-legged on a stone outcropping in the fields of Ahch-To. “Breathe. Reach out. Feel the energy of the island.” She intones, quietly, but loud enough for all of them to hear. Distantly, she remembers her first lesson with Luke Skywalker, as she guides these new students’ meditation. “Find that tension. That balance.”

As she centers on the power of the Force, meditating on it as her students do, she feels that inevitable snap in their shared power, and then Ben’s voice is clear to her— she can see him, too, if she concentrates. He’s on the other side of the mountain, leading combat training for some of the older students.

“You feel that, don’t you?” Ben’s kneeling down to speak to a student, his right hand on the child’s shoulder, the other loosely holding a staff. He must not notice that the bond has rematerialized, completely focused on training these students. “That darkness?”

The student looks scared at first, as if he’s been scolded, but Ben shakes his head, eyes trained on the child. “It’s alright. It’s not a bad thing.” He’s calm, compassionate. “You can embrace it; just don’t let it dominate you.” After a quick nod, he taps his staff against the ground twice, returning to his feet, and gesturing to the one in his padawan’s hand. “Okay. Show me that form again.”

The bond fizzles then, but the exchange still brings a small smile to her lips, temporarily breaking her from her lesson. Then she catches one eye of a student, squinted open, and resumes her lesson. “Eyes closed, remember?” She winks just before the student obeys her command. “Focus on yourself, on the power within.”

* * *

“Or was it… _destiny_?”

* * *

She meets him on the bridge of the _Finalizer_ , as planned.

He stands in the front with his hands clasped in front of him, nose slightly upturned as he surveys the empty space displayed in the viewport. The closer she gets, the more she notices a… _stillness_ about him. _He’s meditating on the Force_ , she realizes, _attuning himself to the stars above and the ship below._

When she’s close enough to him, she clears her throat and executes a small bow, her fingers brushing against the delicate fabric of a crimson gown, slashed with black. “Supreme Leader.”

She’s all deference, of course— bows, honorifics, she’s even kissed his hand once or twice before, to his embarrassment— but there’s a shared secret between them that’s begun to filter through high command, about her— _standing_ in the pecking order here. When her head lifts to meet his eyes, she winks.

He barely reacts, lips twitching as he turns back to the viewport. “I have some interesting developments to discuss with you— regarding the reconnaissance report on the Resistance base.”

Rey feigns a scandalized look around her— the bridge is full, commanders and generals barking orders at officers stationed at displays and holoscreens. “It would be crass to discuss such… sensitive information in a place like this.”

She can tell he’s trying to keep a smile off his face, now. “I agree.” One gloved hand reaches up to gesture towards the lift at the back of the room. “After you.”

She can feel him following her as she crosses the bridge, catching the stares of more than a few officers— and she feels his gaze on her, too, tracing the outline of her dress with his eyes. The thought warms her cheeks, and she has to duck her head to keep anyone from seeing.

The lift is waiting for them, and as soon as their both inside, Ben jams his finger against a button— she doesn’t think either of them knows where he’s leading them— and when the doors _whizz_ close, he doesn’t waste any time putting his lips on hers.

She leans up, tangling her fingers through his hair, pressing her hands to the nape of his neck, his chest, his face. _Everywhere_. He’s already working on her dress, lips moving down her neck as his hands try at the strings, but Rey reaches behind her, stilling his hands with a touch. “No.”

His breath comes in short waves, hot against her neck. “What?”

She places a hand on each shoulder, pressing gently down. “On your knees, _Supreme Leader_.”

He wastes no time letting his legs buckle, arms pulling her skirt aside and traveling up her legs, and only moments later, she’s clutching the arm railings, fastened to the lift walls, breathing heavily as he kisses her.

* * *

“I think… I think destiny might have _damned_ me to love you.” Her voice is tight. “In every lifetime. Thousands of lifetimes from the moment… the moment we first met.”

* * *

“For war crimes against the galaxy, the Senate of the New Republic finds Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order… guilty.” She lets the word resonate in the air, lets the murmurs scatter through the crowd, before continuing. “The appropriate punishment will be execution by blaster.”

She had known it was coming, but it doesn’t stop the tears from springing to her eyes the second the word comes out of Mon Mothma’s mouth. _Guilty._ To his credit, Ben barely reacts, only bowing his head slightly. Rey thinks she’s the only one who can see him take a small, shaky breath.

Her seat towards the back of the Senate building gives her a distinct advantage that she’s only cognizant of in this moment— if she cries, no one can see her. No one will think her a traitor.

_Am I a traitor? For not wanting him dead?_

A Resistance guard steps forward, blaster in his hands. “On your knees, _Supreme Leader_.” He doesn’t try to hide his disdain, all but spitting the words at him.

Ben is compliant, of course, wasting no time going to one knee, and then the other. His head is bowed, and she can feel dread resonating through their bond, a dim anxiety, but resignation most of all, a resignation that tugs at Rey’s heart. _I can’t watch this, I can’t take it, I’ve got to stop it._ She goes to stand, but Chewie, sitting next to her, tugs her back into her seat with a jerk of his arm.

“Fire at will.”

He must sense her panic, her terror, through the bond, because just before the guard raises his arms, Ben raises his head, and his eyes meet hers immediately. She has to cover her mouth to keep from gasping, and then she’s biting the heel of her palm to keep from sobbing outright, from screaming. Where she is a tempest of barely concealed emotion, he is a clear sky, any sentiment smoothed away. He even gives her a smile, though his eyes are tinged with melancholy.

For a split she can’t see anything, and then, as if in a dream, a placid ocean, with clear blue waters like glass, rimmed with black sand, is revealed to her. He’s giving her a vision, she realizes dimly, through the bond.

_I always wanted to show it to you._

_I’m sorry that this is the best I can do._

She hears the sound of a blaster bolt searing through skin, and the vision cuts off— she’s back in the present, and before she registers the presence of a body below the Resistance guard’s gun, she leans over and buries her face in Chewie’s shoulder, a poor attempt at hiding her sobs.

* * *

“It wasn’t damnation.” It’s not posed as a question.

“No.” She agrees.

* * *

Rey believes there is no place in the galaxy as beautiful as Chandrila.

But _on Chandrila_ , there’s no place more beautiful than the shores of the Silver Sea.

On Jakku, when she thought she was condemned to a life of waiting on desert plains, she dreamt of wide open oceans, bodies of water she’d only heard of in passing, from traveling merchants or other scavengers. When she’d seen it, the first time, it had taken her breath away, left tears in her eyes.

Ben had showed it to her just days after they had first arrived. “I have… _memories_ of my past here. Running away when my parents were fighting, exploring these… _powers_ while fending off Snoke in my head.” He had appeared pained, just for a moment, before blinking and shaking his head, chancing a small smile at her. “That was the past, though. I’m ready to make new ones with you.”

Years had passed since that first day, pleasant years, but the sea never changed.

Rolling hills populated with tintolive trees, bulabirds chirping in their branches, color the land behind her, and ahead, only the water, which seems to stretch on forever. Now, in this moment, her cheek rests against her knees, pulled up to her chest as toes bury into deep black sand, her eyes fluttering as the setting sun heats her skin, and paints everything in warm shades of red and orange. She feels Ben further out, standing in the surf— feels his presence in the Force, feels him gazing out across the calm waves as a tiny hand clutches his pinky finger.

Yes, she feels her, too.

As if on cue, the most beautiful sound in the world reaches Rey’s ears— peals of laughter, like bells, are carried to her on a soft wind, a breeze from the sea. When she opens her eyes, chin resting on her kneecaps as she gazes out to the horizon, she sees Kira running through the surf, in and out of the waves, as Ben chases her, playfully leaning down to splash her with water every few steps. Involuntarily, she smiles; at first it’s just a twitch at the corner of her lips, but soon she’s grinning, and laughing, too, at the sight of father and daughter, sprinting through the waves.

When she’s waddled out beyond the surf, legs almost completely submerged, Ben scoops Kira up by her waist and positions her on his hip, planting a kiss on her forehead as they walk back to Rey. “You can’t go out that far, Kira. Remember what I told you about those skor-fins, with an appetite for baby toes?” When Kira sticks out her bottom lip, eyes welling up in fright, Ben gives her a few bounces, banishing her terror and eliciting another round of giggles from her. “They won’t get you, though. I won’t let ‘em.”

When they’re close enough, Rey stretches her legs out, then plants her feet in the sand and stands, shading her eyes with one hand. Ben sees her, then points so Kira can see, too— “Go see Mom, go show her how fast you can run”— before setting her down, and then she’s off, tiny feet kicking up sand as she dashes across the shore. Rey crouches down, arms outstretched, and seconds later, her daughter’s in her arms, fingers clutched around her neck, and Rey swings her up and into her arms, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You’re so fast!”

Ben catches up in a few long strides, snaking his arm around Rey’s side, and she leans into him instinctively. “I’m telling you, she could break the Kessel Run record.”

Rey shoots him a glance. “She just might.” And then, she reaches up, on the tips of her toes, and he meets her halfway to kiss her. Through the bond, she tells him, _I love you._

She can feel him smile under his lips. _I know._

* * *

“It was salvation.”


End file.
